


turn around and turn around (try floating through the air)

by BrachaShakhor



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Dancing, Fluff without Plot, Frank Sinatra - Freeform, Friends to Lovers, M/M, fly me to the moon, i can't believe i acknowledged zurich, i don't know her, i'm soft sorry, it's fluff, post zurich, soft, sorry to this princess, who's theresa?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-08 00:36:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20985053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrachaShakhor/pseuds/BrachaShakhor
Summary: "Douglas smirked and stood. “Well?” He asked lazily over the opening strains. He offered out a hand towards Martin."(Martin and Douglas share a dance at a wedding, to Martin's complete disbelief.)





	turn around and turn around (try floating through the air)

“Oh, Hercules, you have got to be kidding me. I hope I’m not hearing what I think I’m hearing.” It was just like Carolyn, Martin thought, to complain about the music at her own wedding. He hid his fond smile behind a sip of champagne as the alpha dog continued.

“Honestly, Herc. ‘Fly Me to the Moon’? Just a touch on the nose, don’t you—“

“Oh, Mrs. Shipwright, do please shut up,” Herc replied, yanking her up by the hand. “Come dance with me.” Carolyn huffed, straightening her suit jacket—of course, Carolyn had looked utterly revolted at the notion of buying a third wedding dress, honestly, Herc, but at least Douglas, the extremely self-appointed dual Best Man, had convinced her to buy a new skirt suit—lavender; it suited her. Douglas, of course, had impeccable taste. Martin looked across the table at his former first officer. He was absentmindedly swilling his tumbler of apple juice in a circle as if it were wine he was opening to the air, long fingers delicate on the glass, watching the newlyweds with a look of bemused, smug satisfaction that Martin knew just a touch too well. Martin’s stomach clenched. He took another sip of champagne as Herc the couple made their way to the swirl of dancing guests, bickering delightedly the whole way.

“You know, Hercules, I’m still well within time to get an annulment.”

“Oh, do you hear that? We’ve missed half the song.”

“Thank go—“

“Guess I’ll have to ask them to start from the top.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Just watch me.”

Martin laughed and closed his eyes a moment while he took another sip of champagne. Sure enough, in a few moments there was a brief confusion of brass and piano, followed by the opening notes of “Fly Me to the Moon” once more. Martin loved this song. He opened his eyes—to find Douglas staring directly at him. His heart jumped, and also he jumped just a little, sloshing a touch of the bubbly over his hand.

Douglas smirked and stood. “Well?” he asked lazily over the opening strains. He offered out a hand towards Martin.

Martin felt his face turn red enough, probably, to hide his freckles; he hoped Douglas would blame it on the drink but sincerely doubted it. “Well, well what?” he squeaked.

Douglas rolled his eyes. “Martin, I know this is your favorite song,” and Martin looked away, because it was true, and because, well, it really was a touch on the nose, wasn’t it—“And I happen to be rather fond of it myself,” and here Martin looked back up, and Douglas’s face, which Martin knew too well, had lost just a mite of its sardonic edge, “And I for one will be kicking myself if I don’t dance to it with somebody. And here you are.”

Yes, here Martin was, for once, home from his lonely, lonely flat in Zurich, and sure it was just because he was the nearest body to Douglas, but _when else will you have this opportunity again? To hold him, to be close, just once,_ and Martin heard himself saying “Fine.” He stood and shakily took the proffered hand.

Douglas grinned sharkily. “Splendid.” Then he pulled Martin just quickly enough that he would stumble, the bastard, into Douglas’s chest at the edge of the floor. Douglas wrapped an arm around Martin’s waist.

“Of course you’d lead,” Martin grumbled, even as he rested a hand on Douglas’s shoulder, even as his heart beat fit to bursting.

“Naturally,” Douglas replied, shifting them out on to the floor—and then they, they were dancing, _swaying_ even, he and Douglas. Martin felt dizzy and it had nothing to do with his inner ear. The held each other carefully, chests a meticulous two inches from pressing together. Douglas continued, leading them deftly into the crowd, and it was like some of his natural grace was rubbing off on Martin, because he followed perfectly, didn’t trip once. “Being the captain must be good for something.”

Martin rolled his eyes. And then Douglas starting singing along to the band, just quiet like, gazing at some spot right above Martin’s head.

“Fill my heart with song, and let me stay forevermore,” Martin wanted to cry. It was too much. This man he could not have, this song, this careful, measured touch—“Martin, if I twirl you once, do you think you’ll pass out?”

Martin blinked up at Douglas. “Er, I don’t think so—“

“Excellent.” And then somehow that Martin had no firm grip on, Douglas had him, by the hand, was spinning him once under his arm. The wedding passed Martin in a pastel haze. And then Douglas pulled him in, all the way in against his chest, the two inches forgotten. Martin was only a little dizzy.

Douglas was still singing, but now, to Martin’s near-delirium, the former first officer had brought them cheek to cheek, was singing into the shorter man’s ear.

“All I worship and adore. In other words, please be true. In other words,” and Martin could feel the song as breath against the shell of his ear, as goosebumps prickling down under his suit, as Douglas’s lungs working against him, _oh God_.

“In other words—I love you.” Martin heaved a shaky sigh. Douglas didn’t release him as the song ended. If anything, he held him a little closer.

The opening bellows of “Come Fly With Me” warmed the dance floor. From somewhere behind them, Martin could hear Carolyn curse horrifically in frustration.

Both pilots laughed. Douglas drew back, just a bit, and looked into Martin’s eyes. Martin’s laughter died in his throat. The taller man smiled down at him, and there wasn’t a hint of irony there. “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

They were standing still amid moving bodies. Martin squeezed his eyes shut. _Too much, too much._ “Douglas, I—“

“I missed you.” Martin’s eyes opened again. He looked up, but now Douglas was looking away. He appeared, impossibly, uncertain; his jaw tense. His eyes snapped back to Martin’s. “I mean, I’ve missed you. I miss you. Even now, right now, I miss you, Martin.”

Martin felt his eyes water. “I’m…I’m right here,” he answered, feeling silly.

Douglas only nodded. “Maybe here is where you belong.”

Martin’s stomach clenched again. “Douglas, I live in Zurich now, I can’t just—“

Douglas stopped him with a sound of frustration. “I don’t mean here, Fitton. I mean…” Douglas drew Martin impossibly closer. He rested his forehead against Martin’s. “I mean right here.”

When Martin next spoke, his voice was rough with unshed tears, and he didn’t even have the wherewithal to be embarrassed. “Douglas, I live so far, I don’t know how we’d…I want, you must know I want…I don’t know how…” he trailed off miserably. Then Douglas leaned towards him once more and began to sing along again.

“’Come on fly with me, we’ll fly, we’ll fly away. Once I get you up there—“ He broke off abruptly.

“Come now, Martin. We can fly. We’ll figure something out.” Martin pulled back just enough to look up at Douglas. _When he says he’d figure something out, has he ever been wrong?_ Feeling suddenly bold, he stretched his neck up and caught Douglas in a kiss. Douglas, smiling, kissed him back. They closed their eyes together as the brass section sprang to life through the air around them.

*  
At the edge of the dance floor, the new bride turned to the new husband, looking triumphant as she half-watched him dig through his suit pocket for a crumpled ten pound note, and half watched her two miserable underlings finally kiss each other.  
“I told you it would work!” Carolyn trilled as Herc forked over the tenner.

“Unbelievable,” he grumbled, but he grinned as he did it. He kissed her on the forehead, and they wended their way back into the dance.

**Author's Note:**

> oooh hoo hoo i feel certain that somebody has written this exact thing (a fic where marlas gets together at herc and carolyn's wedding) already, maybe multiple somebodies, but what is fanfiction but a space for us to rehearse our joys, and rehearse them, and rehearse them? a beautiful thing.  
lyrics are NOT from either of the songs in this fic, bc that would make too much sense. instead they are from "Dancing" from Hello, Dolly!, because that song inexplicably makes me cry, and the fandot, this warm, tenacious little thing, also inexplicably makes me cry. idk it's just been the high holidays and i'm soft!!! what do you want?????  
also this is the first piece of prose i've completed since graduating from college. so there's a lot to unpack there. but i'm glad i finally had the joy enough in writing to finish something. I'm not even looking this over im just posting.  
sorry, i always overdo it so in the notes. thanks for reading


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